


Egyptian Cotton

by the_deep_magic



Category: Actor RPF, Star Trek RPF
Genre: Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Fingerfucking, Fisting, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-31
Updated: 2009-07-31
Packaged: 2017-10-18 20:27:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/192961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_deep_magic/pseuds/the_deep_magic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Anyone up for a little fisting? Prefer that Chris is the one taking it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Egyptian Cotton

Zach frowns. “Put a towel down first.”

“That is so not sexy,” Chris says, rolling his eyes and trying to look put out. The effect is somewhat diminished by the fact that he’s naked.

“No, what’s not sexy is lube ruining my mattress pad.”

“ _That’s_ what you’re thinking about right now?” Chris whines, throwing the towel at Zach’s head. 

He spreads it out on the center of the bed. “I’m thinking of it now because in a few minutes neither of us is going to be thinking about much of anything.” Chris opens his mouth, but Zach cuts him off before any sound comes out. “And before you lecture me about spontaneity being romantic, remember the last time you did that.”

Chris flushes and grins broadly. “You know, if you don’t want me to do something, you should probably associate the behavior with something _other_ than bending me over the coffee table and fucking me senseless. Classical conditioning, man.”

“Spontaneity has its place. This just requires a little more—” Chris flops unceremoniously down on the bed. “Planning,” finishes Zach, as Chris settles his shoulders on the pile of pillows by the headboard. He grabs a spare pillow and shoves it under Chris’s ass, tilting his hips up.

Chris sighs in a debauched sort of way, looking mightily pleased with himself.

“Arrogant bastard,” Zach mutters as he leans over his lover’s body. “Gonna fuck the smug right out of you.”

Chris hums happily as Zach’s mouth crashes down on his, hard and wet. Their tongues tangle briefly before the older man softens the kiss, slows and pulls back until their lips are barely brushing.

“Do it,” Chris whispers.

Zach pulls back and whips his shirt over his head, moving to kneel between Chris’ spread legs. He settles into place, wrapping his fingers around Chris’ ankles and running them up his calves. He rubs his palms down Chris’ thighs, feeling the muscles stretch as the younger man spreads wider.

Regrettably, Zach has to remove his hands from Chris’ body to apply lube, which he warms slowly between his hands – Chris once grumbled something about nobody wanting cold fingers up their ass, and Zach’s never forgotten. He places on hand on Chris’ hip while the other dips lower to circle his hole.

When Chris shifts his hips restlessly, Zach just chuckles. “Slowly, remember?”

“Slow, not _glacial_.”

Zach presses one long finger into Chris’ body. This is easy, but it’s going to get harder pretty soon and Zach is in no rush to get there. As a reward for his patience, Zach bends down to lick lewdly at the head of Chris’ cock.

“Fffffffffffffffffuck,” moans Chris. “No teasing.”

“No teasing,” Zach agrees, adding another slick finger to the first.

This whole thing requires an enormous amount of patience on Zach’s end, if not outright self-denial. He can’t afford to let himself get too distracted by the sight of Chris splayed out in front of him, flushed and panting as his hips rock eagerly against Zach’s fingers…

“Dammit, should have had you suck me off before we started.”

There’s a witty retort forming on Chris’ lips, but Zach cuts it off by grazing his prostate on the next thrust of his hand, and all that comes out of Chris’ mouth is a harsh gasp.

“Pace yourself, love,” Zach murmurs with a smile just shy of cruel. “Can’t get too worked up yet.”

“Think this is worked up? You haven’t _seen_ me worked up.”

“I know a now-three-legged coffee table that would beg to differ.”

“Shut up!” Chris says with a laugh, and Zach’s heart swells unexpectedly in his chest. He kisses Chris on the inside of the knee and works a third finger into his body.

Chris’ cock is at full attention now. Zach fights the sudden urge to simply swallow him down – it has the element of surprise, yes, but also the probable downside of ending things far too soon. This night is for Chris – despite his bluster, Zach’s pretty sure he’s been working up the courage to ask for this for weeks, if not months. Coming from a man who stuck his tongue in Zach’s ass after their second date, this is somewhat significant.

Three fingers is the most they’ve ever done, and Chris is still so tight around his hand. “Relax,” says Zach, rubbing the thumb of his free hand in soothing circles on Chris’ hip.

“Okay, y’know when you’re packing your suitcase and you’ve got that one last sweater that you just have to pack in there but the thing’s crammed full as it is and you’re thinking ‘no way in hell is this going to fit—‘”

Zach squeezes his lover’s hip gently and withdraws his hand to reapply the lube. He coats his whole hand this time. “Okay, your metaphors suck and you’re thinking too much.”

“I mean, of all the truly ludicrous acts to fall under the umbrella of ‘sex’—” There’s the tiniest tremor of uncertainty in Chris’ voice.

“Did I mention talking too much? Focus on your breathing.”

He does, and when Zach’s fingers return the pressure around them eases just that little bit. “You ready?” Zack asks.

“Bring it.”

Zach rolls his eyes. “Simpleton.”

“Degenerate.”

“Addle-pate.”

“Reprobate.”

“Lummox.”

“Uh… douchenozzle.”

“ _Terrible_ , Christopher,” Zach says with reproach, carefully – oh so carefully – adding his pinky.

Chris’ breath comes out in short huffs. “Your hand. Is in. My ass.”

“That’s no excuse for poor vocabulary.” Zach stills his hand, letting Chris adjust to the added fullness. He squirms, but Zach keeps enough pressure on his hip to keep him in place.

“Zach?” Chris’ voice is understandably strained.

“Yeah?”

“Keep talking. Please. It helps.”

Zach tears his eyes away from his hand to indulge in a slow sweeping glance up his lover’s body. What he sees nearly undoes him.

“ _Fuck_ , Chris, you should see yourself like this, all spread out and flushed and trembling. You’ve been biting your lips, haven’t you? They’re so swollen, Chris, almost as red and sweet as your cock. Never seen you so hard, baby. Full and thick, like you’ve wanted this for ages. Wanted my _hands_. You’re gorgeous like this, stretched to the limit, like every nerve ending’s on fire. God, you’re a depraved masterpiece.”

While he talks, Zach slowly begins moving his hand, twisting just so to keep the motion from being repetitive. He gradually becomes aware of his own erection, throbbing against the seam of his jeans. He has to let go of Chris’ hip long enough to unzip and free himself.

Chris’ body is slowly adjusting itself, but his head is lolling back and forth on the pillows. “Can’t do this. Can’t take it.”

“Oh, you can take more. So much more than you think you can.” Zach places a hand on Chris’ stomach, careful to avoid his cock, to feel the muscles clench and ripple under the skin. He leans over to kiss Chris there, murmuring reassurance soft and wet against his lover’s body while his hand keeps moving.

When Chris is as open as he’s going to get, Zach softly asks, “Ready?”

Chris shuts his eyes and nods his head, and Zach begins to press his thumb slowly inwards. Chris’ hands fist in the sheets and he doesn’t even try to hold back the groan that shakes up from the base of his spine.

“Good. So good, Chris. Keep breathing.” The pressure is nearly painful on Zach’s knuckles now, but looking up at Chris, the pain barely registers. The younger man’s breathing is shallow, like he’s too full to keep the air in his body. His eyes are bright with unshed tears, whether from the intensity of the physical sensations or complete vulnerability it’s impossible to tell.

Zach can’t find a word for it. Overtaken. Staggered. Overwhelmed. Devastated. Shattered. Nothing comes close.

Chris’ jaw works like he’s trying to speak but can’t. Zach leans up and presses his hand to Chris’ face. “Look at me. Don’t talk, baby. Just feel.”

One of Chris’ hands untangles from the sheets and clasps Zach’s. He squeezes almost convulsively and presses a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss to Zach’s palm.

Bit by bit, Zach curls his hand into a fist. His hand is cramping and he’s got no range of motion at all, but slowly, incrementally, he rocks his fist inside Chris’ body. The younger man’s breathing speeds up and he starts to shake in earnest now.

Zach knows he’s hit something good when Chris _keens_ into the air that’s gone mysteriously still around them, time seeming to stop. Zach is relentless and Chris is sobbing with every shift of his fist. Zach has to fight the blur in his own eyes, the tunnel vision that is narrowing his universe down to his aching hand and Chris’ impossibly tight, clenching body.

When Zach is sure Chris can’t take anymore, he wraps his hand around Chris’ cock and it takes all of two strokes before Chris is coming, head thrown back with a wail that sounds like every nerve cell in his body firing at once – long, hot pulses that crash into each other like sound waves, amplifying and reverberating through Zach’s bones as he keeps Chris anchored through the storm.

When it’s over, when the last echoes of Chris’ voice have dissolved in the air and his shaking has calmed to a mild shiver, Zach feels like he’s returning back to his own body after a long absence, and is almost surprised to realize that he hasn’t come yet. A few quick tugs with his free hand and he’s there, but his own orgasm feels like a mere aftershock.

Zach uncurls his hand and slowly draws it out of Chris’ body.   He cleans his hand on the towel, massaging his aching knuckles, then stretches forward to lie beside Chris. The younger man looks like he hasn’t got a bone left in his body, and Zach carefully rearranges them so Chris’ head is on his chest. He kisses Chris on the top of the head and draws lazy circles on the small of his back.

Zach is sure Chris has fallen asleep – he’s headed that way himself – when he hears something that might be words slurred against his chest. He tilts Chris’ chin up. “What?”

“I drooled on you.”

It’s true, but it just makes Zach laugh. Chris has managed to pull the sheets mostly off the bed, Zach’s pants are still half-on, come and lube are _everywhere_ , and Chris sounds downright contrite about a little saliva.   “Want me to go get a washcloth and clean you up?”

“No,” Chris murmurs, fingers pressing into Zach’s ribs entirely too close to his heart.


End file.
